


two plastic hearts with nowhere to run

by kadaransmuggler



Series: life of the party [2]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Custom Ryder Twins, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Angst, Slow Burn, Suicidal Ideation, Trans Male Character, Trans Ryder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 03:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11820687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadaransmuggler/pseuds/kadaransmuggler
Summary: Atlas Ryder falls out of the sky on Habitat 7, and then he falls in love.





	two plastic hearts with nowhere to run

            Two months before Atlas Ryder was cryogenically frozen, he had his heart broken by a boy. The boy was two years older than Atlas, with soft blonde hair and big green eyes and maybe Atlas knew he’d given his heart up too soon. They hadn’t known each other for long, but the boy kissed him like his lips were made of sugar, and Atlas was always easily won. The boy left one morning while Atlas was still sleeping, leaving a note signed with a heart that told him that he would be going to Andromeda alone. Well, perhaps not alone, he had his father and his sister, but it was enough that Atlas _felt_ like he was going alone. It was enough to make him carry the note around in his pocket until he went back to Earth two weeks before leaving for Andromeda.

            He wakes up six hundred years later and two and a half million light years away, but he remembers that day back on Earth like it was yesterday. He’d gone to down the beach. It was raining, and the storm clouds stretching out to the horizon were black above the choppy water. He was the only person on the beach, and he’d sat there with his dog tags in one hand and the note in the other. He thinks he might be crying, but with the way the rain slides down his face he’s not sure. The ink on the paper has long since started to run, and there’s a dozen messages piling up on his omni-tool, but Atlas takes this one moment for himself. He thinks he’ll always remember the way he felt- the terror of leaving so much behind, and the thrill of going towards something new.

* * *

            Atlas has always been the type of person to dive headfirst into any decision that he makes. There are too many things to do and too many things to see for him to stop and take his time. He hadn’t given Andromeda any thought, either, until it was too late for him to turn back. It wasn’t like he could back out anyway, though. His father and his sister were all that was left after he’d had his heart broken, and there would be nothing left in the Milky Way for him. He couldn’t bear the thought of his sister sleeping while he lives out his life; either, but the days and weeks and months leading up to the moment he would leave for Andromeda left him breathless when he thought of all the things he was leaving behind.

            He liked adventure, but six hundred years was a long time. He tries not to think about just how long. He tries not to think about a lot of things, right before the end. He can’t stop feeling like he’s heading to his execution, but going to sleep feels like it always does, even if he won’t wake up for another six hundred years.

* * *

            When Atlas wakes up, it is with a gasp of air. He feels like he has just broken the surface of the ocean, but the sterile white walls surrounding him are a far cry from the sea, and Atlas tries to ignore the weight of what he left behind pressing against him. He sits in the cryo bay with a cup of coffee while the doctor checks him over. When he looks up, the boy sitting across from him raises his hand and waves, a grin on his face. Atlas can’t keep a half-smile off his face, even as his brain works to figure out who he is. _He is crewmember Liam Kosta. He is assigned to the pathfinding team as well_ , SAM says.

Atlas doesn’t respond, but he thinks for a moment about what type of person Kosta will turn out to be. The asari doctor turns her attention back to Atlas, helping him stand. He doesn’t tell her he is perfectly capable of standing on his own. His sister isn’t awake yet, but he’ll be damned if he leaves her. He opens his mouth to tell the doctor, and it is then that things go sideways. There is a terrible moment where a horrific sound shudders along the hull of the _Hyperion_.

            “That doesn’t sound good,” Atlas mumbles, looking up. He is tensed and ready to fight, but then there’s another horrific shudder that knocks everyone in the cryo-bay off of their feet. Atlas is pushing himself to his feet when his sister’s pod comes sliding along the floor towards him. He braces himself, his head held down, but before the pod can reach him it rises into the air. He follows it seconds later, the sudden loss of gravity making his stomach turn. All around him, there is the chaos of confusion. A voice comes over the loudspeaker, and Cora drifts into the cryo-bay, pulling herself to the terminal. Atlas only has a few memories of the woman- he met her briefly before they were all frozen, but he doesn’t have the time to reflect before the gravity turns back on. He slams against the ground with a grunt, pushing himself up immediately, looking around.

            His father calls for him to go to the bridge, but Atlas can only see the way the doctors are crowding around Sierra’s pod. He stumbles down the length of the cryo-bay, grabbing the asari doctor’s arm to keep himself upright. “What’s the news, doctor? Is she going to be okay?” Atlas asks, his voice rushed. It feels as though all of the air has left him at once.

            “She’ll be fine, but the revival process was interrupted. We’ll have to keep her in a coma for awhile and let her wake up naturally,” the doctor tells him, and his heart squeezes in fear.

            “I can’t lose her,” he says, softly, and she smiles sympathetically at him.

            “She’ll pull through. It isn’t anything dire,” she assures him. He nods, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He wants to stay- wants to make sure, because that is his sister and she is all he has left, but Cora is waiting impatiently for him and his father is waiting on the bridge, and Atlas knows he cannot keep them waiting, no matter how sick the thought of leaving makes him feel.

* * *

            “Your sister was never one to miss the action,” Alec tells him, clapping him on the shoulder, and something in Atlas’ stomach turns. _How would you know?_ he wants to ask, with as much venom as he can muster. _You were never there_. He doesn’t, though, he keeps his tongue in his cheek and steps onto the shuttle behind the boy who waved at him earlier. _Liam Kosta,_ SAM reminds him, but Atlas ignores the AI in his head as the shuttle takes off. He’s leaning against the wall, peering out the window, as they enter the atmosphere of Habitat 7. _Humanity’s new home,_ Atlas thinks, but he knows that home is six hundred years away.

            Things start to go really wrong, then, and the door of the shuttle is ripped away and the boy who’d waved is hanging over the edge, grasping desperately for a handhold to pull himself back into the shuttle. “Liam!” Atlas calls out, and he is moving forward before he can think, reaching for Liam even as the wind tugs at him. He knows he is being stupidly reckless, he knows he could die just as easily as Liam might, but there are some things worth taking the risk for and he has never been more sure that Liam is one of those things. Atlas is reaching, and then he is falling, tumbling through the atmosphere as the shuttle keeps burning.

            There is a second, a terrible, horrifying second, when Atlas doesn’t act. He is falling, his arms flailing through the air, and SAM is telling him that his jumpjets are malfunctioning, and all Atlas can think is that maybe he was never meant to see much of Andromeda at all.  His jumpjets activate suddenly, his heart stuttering in his chest as he lands, safe and mostly unharmed. There’s a crack in his visor and his lungs are screaming at him as he fumbles to bring the scanner up, desperate to fix it. _The air is toxic_ , he thinks _, and it’s going to kill me_.

 But then the crack is sealed and he’s relatively safe, even though SAM is offline. He lays there, for a moment, on his back as he pants. He tries not to think about how close he just came to death before he is on his feet, stumbling as he heads forward. He doesn’t know much about this planet, not with SAM offline, but he knows he needs to get moving, needs to try and find the wreckage of the shuttle or someone that can help him.

            He doesn’t find the shuttle, but he finds Liam, and he feels his throat tighten in relief when he’s not alone. He takes a moment to double over, coughing as his hand moves to his throat, even though he’s not in any danger of dying anymore. He feels shaky, the adrenaline leaving him in a rush. _I could have died_ , he thinks, looking up at Liam, _but I didn’t_.

* * *

            Atlas Ryder stands next to his father, glowing with the thrill of victory. Everything that could go wrong on this damn planet had, but then they’d fixed it and Atlas had never known anything to feel as good as this. He looks over at his father and opens his mouth to say something, but there is a blast behind them and for the second time that day Atlas is being propelled through the air. Alec hits the ground first, skidding to a stop, and then Atlas lands and his helmet shatters. He tries to hold is breath but he cannot stop his lungs from gasping for air.

He reaches for his father, trying to choke out an apology for any of the terrible and awful things he’d ever said about the man. If he is going to die, then he’d like to do it without bad blood between them, but he can’t make the words come out. He’s not sure what’s happening, but then his father is kneeling down in front of him, pulling his helmet off of his head and then removing his own. Atlas’ hand curls around Alec’s wrist. He can’t make out what his father is saying, can’t make out anything through the haze around him, but he lets out a whine from the back of his throat. _Don’t do this_ , he thinks, _not for me_ , but his father has never been the sort of man to listen and then Atlas’ world is blessedly and mercifully black.

* * *

            Waking up is the hardest thing he’s ever done. He claws his way out of the blackness, flashes of reality blending with the haze of unconsciousness until Atlas can’t tell what is and isn’t real. Memories are bleeding into his mind, too, the past and present thrumming behind his eyelids as he remembers the Alliance and the blonde-haired boy with the soft green eyes and his father pressing a pistol into his hand with a soft smile.

            Atlas Ryder wakes with a gasp forcing air into his lungs. Liam starts as he sits up, wild terror in Atlas’ eyes. “You’re awake,” Liam says, his voice soft and warm, but there’s something wrong about everything and Atlas can’t stop his breath from coming too fast.

            “Dad?” he asks, his voice cracking as he raises a hand up to the back of his neck. He feels like he just came out on the other side of a car crash, his ribs screaming in protest as his chest heaves. Liam is there instantly, his hands on Atlas’ arms and his face so close that Atlas can’t see anything else. He notices, distractedly, that there are flecks of gold in the brown of his eyes and Atlas finds his fingers clutching at the loose fabric of Liam’s shirt.

            “Atlas, you need to breathe,” Liam murmurs, so Atlas nods and focuses on the rise and fall of Liam’s chest until it doesn’t hurt quite as bad to breathe anymore.

            “What happened?” he asks, but his voice is barely more than a whisper. Liam doesn’t let go, not yet, and Atlas leans forward until his forehead is resting against Liam’s shoulder.

            “Alec Ryder died. You were dead for twenty-two seconds. Something happened with your SAM implant- I’ll let T’Perro explain that, it’s pretty technical,” he says, pausing to take a breath. Atlas stiffens, but Liam’s hand is warm on his back, moving up and down, so he focuses on that. “You’re the Pathfinder now,” Liam finishes, his voice still soft and gentle. Atlas isn’t given anymore time to process as he hears the soft sound of the door sliding open and two pairs of feet clicking on the cold metal floor.

            “I-I can’t be the Pathfinder,” Atlas says, pulling back, his eyes wide and wild, his breath starting to sound wheezy again. He doesn’t think he can focus on calming down when the realization that his father is dead is threatening to drown him, even though he knows he needs to _breathe_. He hadn’t been close with his dad, but that was his father, an unshakeable rock, and now he was dead.  

            “And why not?” Cora asks. Atlas winces and Liam glares in Cora’s direction before shifting Atlas so he can sit next to him, coaxing him to look at Liam instead. Atlas tries to focus on the flecks of gold in Liam’s eyes but all he can think about is the fact that his father is dead and his sister is in a coma and how he has never, ever felt so alone before.

            “Because _Dad_ was supposed to be the Pathfinder. I can’t take his place. I’m not-I don’t know- I can’t,” Atlas whispers, and then he’s hyperventilating again. Liam shoots another dirty glare at Cora and makes soft sounds to get Atlas’ attention. Atlas makes a choked sound in the back of this throat, and then he buries his face in the crook of Liam’s neck, shuddering as he tries to fight back the tears.

            _What the hell is wrong with you?_ Liam mouths at Cora as he pats Atlas’ back, rocking back and forth slightly.

            _How was I supposed to know he was going to react that way?_ Cora mouths back, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.  Liam throws his hands up for a moment.

            _We need to calm him down_ , Lexi mouths, bringing her omni-tool up.

            _No shit, doc_ , Liam mouths back, but he turns his attention back to Atlas who is, admittedly, well on his way to calming down. It’s only a few minutes before Atlas pulls back, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. He looks like he’s about to face down a firing squad, but when he starts to talk his voice is steady again.

            “I haven’t received the necessary training required for the Pathfinder position,” he says, looking steadily around the room at all of them. He never quite meets their eyes, but he does a damn good job considering how little time he’s had to pull himself together. 

            “Well, it’s too late to do anything about that now. SAM has integrated with you on a much deeper level- removing that bond could very well kill you, Atlas. I’m not sure what your father was thinking, but it would appear that you are the Pathfinder now,” Lexi tells him, and the clinical, matter-of-fact voice she is using makes it a little easier to breathe.

            “You have two hours before we arrive at the Nexus,” Cora chimes in, and Atlas thinks for a moment like the terror he feels will swallow him whole.

            “I’ll go get ready, then,” he says, and he has never felt so exhausted. He thinks again of the boy with the soft blonde hair and the wide green eyes and he makes himself remember that the boy is six hundred years dead. He reminds himself that he might as well be, too.

* * *

            He takes thirty minutes to make himself presentable, which means he throws on clean pants and an oversized hoodie. Once he decides he’s put in enough effort, he goes to find Liam who is, thankfully, in a secluded area. He stands around for ten minutes before he can work up the courage to approach Liam. _Come on, Atlas, you can do this_ , he tells himself, and he tries to think of all the other times he’d done things he hadn’t thought he could. He is spared from making this decision when Liam starts to walk out, a datapad in his hand. He almost walks directly into Atlas, stopping short the last second.

            “Oh, hey, I was just, uh, looking for you,” Atlas says, shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

            “What do you need?” Liam asks, hitting the button on the side of the datapad. It goes dark as he looks up at Atlas, who’s just now noticing that Liam is only a few inches taller than he is himself.

            “I just wanted to apologize, for earlier. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, but it won’t happen again,” Atlas says. He looks down at his shoes and drags the toe along a crack between tiles.

            “Atlas, that was a perfectly normal response. You died down there on Habitat 7. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t upset,” Liam says, reaching out and putting a hand on Atlas’ shoulder. He feels sick, again, but he’s not sure that he ever stopped.

            “Still. I just- I’m sorry. Dad never liked all this emotion stuff,” he murmurs, and he feels like he might break underneath the soft look that Liam is giving him.

            “Shit. Listen, Atlas, there is absolutely nothing wrong with feeling things. I don’t care what your father made you believe. You should never feel ashamed of it,” Liam tells him. Atlas swallows hard, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

            “Thanks,” he whispers, and it feels like the word is stuck to the back of his throat.

            “I’m here for you anytime, you know. Judgment free zone, right here,” Liam says, a faint smile on his face. Atlas makes the mistake of looking up and catching his gaze, and the flecks of gold in Liam’s eyes are so warm and inviting that Atlas almost forgets how to breathe.

            “I appreciate it,” he answers, giving Liam an easy grin. He still feels like he’s choking back tears.

            “By the way, I checked on your sister. Nothing’s changed. I’m sure you’ll be the first to know if it does, though,” Liam tells him, with an easy smile, like the air between them hadn’t just been so emotionally charged that Atlas couldn’t breathe.

            “Thanks, Liam. And, by the way, if you need anything? I’m your guy,” Atlas says, with an easy and charming smile. Liam pats Atlas on the shoulder before letting his hand fall to his side.

            “Thanks, Atlas. I’ll see you around. Still need to get ready to hit the Nexus,” he says, giving him a friendly nod before walking off. Atlas stands there for a moment, staring after him, before he makes his feet carry him towards his father’s quarters.

* * *

            Atlas feels out of his depth when he steps onto the Nexus. The place is a shit show and it has been for the past year, and he has no idea where to even think about starting to fix it. He tries to think about what his father would do, but his father is dead and he is the Pathfinder now. It is worse, he decides, because everyone else has already decided that there’s no way he’ll ever be able to do this. Instead, he takes a deep breath and crosses his arms over his chest, swearing that he’ll prove them all wrong. The sharp, stabbing pain in his head during the meeting with Tann hadn’t helped, though, and neither had the conversation he’d had with SAM afterwards. All he knows as he wanders through the Hyperion is that his father’s death is still all too real, hanging over him like a shadow, and that he can barely breathe because of it.

            Atlas heads back to the Nexus. There’s only one person who’s been able to help him so far, and even though he’s loathe to admit that he’s having these problems, he knows he won’t be able to deal with them on his own. He doesn’t even need to acknowledge his feelings, not really; he knows that he’ll feel better as long as Liam is there with him. He’s not sure what it is about the other boy, but until he gets time to process, to box his emotions up where they can’t get out, he’s not going to question it. He finds him easily enough, hanging out near the security station on the Nexus.

            “You look like hell. Can’t believe they grilled you like that,” Liam says, and just like that he’s falling into step with Atlas, who’s still unsure about where he’s going, only that there is so much of the station left to explore. It’s enough to make him feel like a kid alone on the Citadel for the first time.

            “Yeah. It was kind of shitty of them. Addison especially, talking about Dad like that. I already know I should have died on Habitat 7 instead,” Atlas says, swallowing back his bitterness. Liam stops dead in his tracks. Atlas takes two more steps forward before turning around, confusion in his eyes.

            “You don’t really think that, do you?” Liam asks, and something heavy hangs in the air between them. Atlas slouches down, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie again. He doesn’t remember ever feeling quite so small before.

            “Well, yeah. Dad would know what to do. I don’t even know where to start,” Atlas says, shrugging. It’s not a big deal; he knows it would be better if Alec had survived.  His father had the training for this. He doesn’t.

            “Training or not, your dad wouldn’t have made you Pathfinder unless he thought you could do it. Besides, you’re not going to be doing this alone. Andromeda is a mess, but it’s our mess. We’ll fix it together,” Liam tells him, his voice soft and his eyes wide and Atlas thinks that he’ll find himself falling all over again if he’s not careful.

            “Thanks, Liam. I appreciate it. I don’t think I could do this- any of this- without you,” he answers, trying to force an easy smile. It works, sort of, and Liam smiles back at him, linking his arm through Atlas’.

            “Maybe seeing your new ship will make you feel better. Come on. Cora sent me a message while you were in with Tann saying it’s ready for us,” he says, a bright smile on his face.

            “We have a ship?” Atlas asks, incredulous. He follows along as Liam starts walking, moving through the station like he knows where he’s going. Atlas just tries to focus on not tripping while he looks around.

            “You have a ship. And from what I hear, she’s one of a kind,” Liam answers, dodging through the crowd. Atlas supposes this isn’t really a crowd, but it’s way more people than he’s had to deal with since weeks before he was frozen, and he feels a little overwhelmed. He starts to recognize where he’s at, though- they’re getting close to the trams.

            “Wow. You know, I never thought I’d have this much responsibility. Kind of feel like a kid playing dress-up,” he replies. Liam makes a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat, unlinking their arms so he can use his omni-tool to call a tram.

            “Yeah, I know what you mean. None of us have ever taken on anything so big before,” he answers.

            “Yeah. It’s hard to think about what’ll happen if we fuck it up or can’t do it,” Atlas agrees, leaning against the wall. He’s still got his hands stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie.

            “Coming to Andromeda was a big thing. We knew it would be hard,” Liam remarks.

            “Well, yeah, but there’s a difference in knowing something’s going to be hard and then actually experiencing it. I knew Dad’s research was going to cut my career off eventually, but it still hurt when it did. Doors that had been open before were getting slammed in my face,” he remarks, a faint smile on his face. He’d give almost anything if that was still one of his only problems. 

            “You got that right. I don’t think anyone in the Milky Way ever went up against anything this big,” he says. The tram pulls up, slowing to a stop. There’s a half-second before the doors slide open, and Atlas lets out a breathe of relief when he sees that it’s empty.

            “Commander Shepard might have. I’m not sure how all that Reaper shit turned out, but I believed her. I met her, once, and she didn’t seem like the type of woman to make a big deal out of anything,” he says, sliding down in one of the seats. His legs are long, reaching almost to the seat across from him, but Liam sits down anyway, his legs stretching out alongside Atlas’, bumping against him occasionally. Atlas can’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable with someone that wasn’t his twin.

            “You met Shepard? Shit, when? Was it when you were with the Alliance?” Liam asks, leaning forward a little. Atlas finds himself smiling, his earlier bad mood damn near forgotten.

            “Yeah, sort of. Dad called her in a few weeks after Saren was defeated. He wanted to know if she had anything that could help him with SAM, since she dealt with that rogue VI on the moon and all the geth. I woke up one morning and she was standing in my kitchen, drinking Dad’s shitty coffee. She ruffled my hair, called me a cute kid, and kept talking to Dad. It was great, really,” he said, shifting so his arms are crossed over his chest.

            “Well, she wasn’t wrong. You are pretty cute,” Liam said, and Atlas can feel himself blushing as the tram slows to a stop.

* * *

            The docking bay is busy- perhaps the busiest place on the station, aside from the cryo bay, but Atlas doesn’t mind because Liam is standing close enough for their shoulders to brush together. Liam is leading him towards the docks when the ship lands, and Atlas finds himself stopping and leaning against the railing, staring up at the ship with wide eyes.

            “Is that it?” he asks, his voice soft as his fingers wrap around the railing.

            “Yeah,” he answers, his voice just as soft, “it’s the _Tempest_.”

            The ship is sleek and shiny, and Atlas almost can’t believe it’s _his_. A turian woman steps down from the loading platform, giving orders as she goes and tapping furiously on her omni-tool. Liam tugs on Atlas’ arm, guiding him through the now-thinning crowd.

            The turian meets them at the ship. Atlas is still staring up at it slack-jawed with wonder. He’d known a Pathfinder would need a ship, sure, and he’d started trying to come to terms with the idea that he was the Pathfinder now, but he’d never considered getting his own ship.

            “Let’s pick it up, people! We’re fourteen months late!” the turian calls as they approach. The dockworkers do their best to scurry along at a quicker pace, loading things onto the ship. Atlas doesn’t envy them- he knows from experience how heavy those damn crates were. The turian notices him and Liam just then. Her mandibles flutter in a smile and she says, “So, you’re the one making everything happen.” Atlas glances over at Liam before glancing back to the turian and answering.

            “I guess so. I’m doing my best, at least,” he answers, giving her that charming, easy grin that he gives everyone else.

            “Good. My name’s Vetra, Vetra Nyx. Initiative wrangler, provisioner, gunner, and everything in between,” she tells him, holding out her hand. He clasps it firmly in his, that charming smile still on his face.

            “Well, sounds like you’ll be an invaluable part of the crew. Are we ready to get this show on the road?” he asks. Cora jogs over to them, panting and out of breath as she pushes her hair out of her face. Atlas turns to look at her, and she salutes. He shakes his head minutely before turning back to Vetra.

            “I’m more than ready. We’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Pathfinder,” she says. The air is almost electric with the hope that everyone’s feeling, and he’s almost overwhelmed. He’s terrified he’ll let all these people down- he’d fucked up the first contact with the kett, after all, even though he knows that wasn’t really his fault. It’s hard to think that it was anything else, though, especially when his father is lying dead on an alien planet because of him. Liam brushes up against him, then, exchanging a quick glance with him. Atlas has to take a deep breath against the feeling of gratitude that floods him.

            “So, you’re coming with us, Vetra?” he asks, instead, and if Vetra notices his smile wavering she doesn’t mention it.

            “Of course. Addison wouldn’t let this ship off the station otherwise,” she answers, a purr in her voice as she turns to head up the ramp. A dockworker stops them just then, with something about a detailed inventory and Addison and Atlas wants to tell this dockworker what Addison can go do with herself, but Vetra steps in before he can. She tells the worker that she’ll pull a few strings, get someone thawed early. The worker caves, and Vetra turns back to them, her mandibles twitching in self-satisfaction.

            “Nice work. I have a feeling that’ll come in handy,” Atlas says, as they finally start up the ramp for real this time. Liam is still standing close, their elbows brushing together, and he smiles to himself. He still can’t believe the ship is his.

            “I certainly hope so, Pathfinder,” Vetra replies, a grin on her face.

There is a quick tour of the ship and quick introductions to the crew before the pilot, a salarian named Kallo that’s far nicer than Atlas anticipated, shows him how to work the navigation system. It’s not too complicated, even though he’s not paying attention, and he knows that SAM will always be there to help him. If he weren’t so exhausted at the prospect of what’s expected of him, he might be concerned about how easily he’s gotten used to having someone else in his head, but right now it’s nice to not be alone.

            “We’ll arrive at Eos in approximately five hours, Atlas. I suggest using the travel time to rest and ready yourself,” Kallo says. Atlas nods, slinking away.

* * *

            The Pathfinder’s quarters are large and spacious, but all he can think of his how empty they feel. He spends ten minutes dragging the mattress over the railing to press against the glass, adjusting the blankets until it’s a suitable nest. The bedframe stands empty where it was supposed to be, but Atlas knows he’ll feel a lot better being so close to the stars. Just then, his omni-tool beeps with a message.

            LK: hey wanna come help me move a couch

            AR: why are you moving a couch

            AR: where did you even get a couch

            LK: i happen to take comfortable seating very seriously

            LK: anyway it came from the nexus

            LK: thought we could set up a nice place to relax

            LK: but your biotics could come in handy

            LK: although i won’t object if you want to get all hot and sweaty trying to move this thing

            LK: maybe even take off your shirt

            LK: wouldn’t mind it at all

            AR: i’ll help on one condition

            AR: i’ll be using my biotics though

            AR: i don’t wanna be sweaty when we go planetside

            LK: that’s fair

            LK: and what might that condition, pathfinder?

            AR: we have that beer you promised on habitat 7 afterwards.

            AR: we need to put that couch to use anyway.

            AR: or you could come up to my room.

            AR: i have couches

            AR: two of them.

            LK: deal.

            LK: we’ll test out the new couch. and depending on how it goes, maybe we’ll test yours out, too.

            AR: i’ll be down in five

            AR: can’t let these couches go untested, after all

            LK: or those beers undrunk

            AR: damn straight

* * *

            The couch is easy enough to move. Atlas has never been good at finessing his biotics, but it’s easy for him to lift it and Liam to steer it into place. He’d never admit it, but he’s trying to show off a little, and he thinks he catches Liam admiring the way he looks in the blue glow once. After, he curls up on one corner of the couch and Liam stretches out on the other side, each of them with a beer in one hand.

            “So, why’d you come to Andromeda?” Liam asks. Atlas grins, resting his chin on his knees.

            “That blunt, huh?” he asks, one eyebrow raised, his arm curled around his knees.

            “That blunt,” Liam agrees, a faint smile on his face. His eyes are warm and golden, and for the first time, Atlas feels safe talking about the things he left behind.

            “I’d like to say I came for conversations like this with people like you, but I guess I came to Andromeda because I didn’t see any other option. Dad was already going, of course, and Sierra agreed as soon as Dad told her. She loves exploring and adventure. With Mom dead, I didn’t want to stay in the Milky Way alone. The guy I was seeing told me he was thinking about coming, too, so I thought that was everything. He ended things a few months before we left, told me he didn’t want to leave after all, giving me one more reason to come out here,” he answers. He tries to be blunt, tries not to act like he’s still heartbroken over the blonde boy some six hundred years later. He isn’t, really, but it still stings when he thinks about it. Thinking about the Milky Way at all seemed to sting, though, so maybe he’s just being a sentimental fool.

            “Sounds rough. How long were the two of you together?” Liam asks, stretching out even more until he’s brushing up against Atlas. He must have realized early on how starved the boy is for touch.

            “Only a couple of months. I met him on Arcturus. It makes sense that he didn’t really want to leave; we didn’t have the time to get serious. I’m not too broken up about it- Andromeda seems to be giving me some pretty nice options. Anyway, what about you? Why did you come to Andromeda?” he asks, taking a big swig of the beer. He’d never been too fond of the stuff, really, but he’d drink a dozen shitty beers if it meant staying on the couch with Liam.   

            “I _want_ to say that I’m running from my past, but really from myself. It’d make a cooler story.  It’s also bullshit. I had a good life- good family, good friends, a good job. I guess I came because I just…believed in the Initiative, believed in a new beginning. I still do. Have to, though, ‘cause we’re in it,” Liam replies, absentmindedly swirling the beer around in the bottle.

            “That’s…poetic, I suppose. The Initiative sure painted a prettier picture than what we’re getting,” Atlas remarks, uncurling a little and sliding down the couch.

            “I know why we’re here. A bad start won’t change that- it just gives us a hell of a lot more to fix. I know it seems overwhelming, but you won’t be doing it alone,” he tells him, finishing off his beer.

            “I know, it’s just…I don’t know. They promised a lot, and all of its gone to hell already. I just wish it hadn’t,” he replies. The thrum of the ship’s engines, ever-present, reminds him that he’s always moving forward into whatever awaits him. He tries not to think about Eos, not yet.

            “Yeah, I get what you mean. By the way, Lexi said you overheated your amp. I knew it was hot when I dragged you onto the shuttle, but I thought it was the almost dying that did it. Lexi said it wasn’t, that it came from reckless combat on Habitat 7,” Liam says, and somehow Atlas can’t bring himself to look away from the soft gold eyes.

            “Yeah. I…I don’t think, when I’m in the thick of it, except surviving. I think it’s something I learned from Dad, but I end up overheating my amp. According to the doctors on the Citadel before we left, I’ve done some permanent damage,” he answers, swallowing thickly. The beer tastes heavy in his mouth, all of a sudden, and for some reason he feels like he’s disappointed Liam.

            “What kind of damage?” he asks, his voice soft, but there’s an undercurrent of steel, too.

            “Nothing major. Minor neural scarring, is what the doctors said. They told me I’d probably get stuck with chronic migraines,” he answers, his voice wavering just a little.

            “Maybe SAM could help you. Put a block on your abilities until your amp cools down,” he suggests, and Atlas shrugs.

            _It would be possible,_ SAM tells him. He ignores the AI.

            “Maybe he could. But I’d hate to have that if we got in a situation where we needed it. I’ve already done the damage; overheating it a few more times won’t kill me. Probably,” he says. His voice stays steady this time, and he’s content to count his victories where he can find them.

            “Still, Atlas, you shouldn’t push yourself. I don’t know much about what that could do to you, but from the way Lexi talked it wouldn’t be anything good. Just…be careful,” Liam scolds. Atlas looks away, his gaze falling to the crack in the couch between the cushions.

            “I will. It helps, if there’s ice or something to cool it back down. It just takes a long time to cool down on its own. I’ll try not to overheat my amp unless we’re in a life or death situation, though,” he murmurs, his chin drooping back to his knees as he curls up again.

            “Hey, maybe Cora will have some tips. She’s a biotic- a pretty strong one, too. Talking to her about it might help,” Liam suggests, scooting forward a little. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he hates how lost Atlas looks.

            “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll talk to her about it soon. She should be able to help,” he agrees. He’s desperate to change the subject, but he’s never been good at it. Instead, he brings his omni-tool up, scrunching his face up when he sees the time.

            “Something wrong, Pathfinder?” Liam asks, his voice warm and full of concern.

            “Not really, no. We should be there soon, though,” he says, closing the interface and leaning back again.

            “Not excited to get down to it?” he asks, a grin on his face.

            “I’d be more excited if this wasn’t a desert planet. I hate the heat. It makes me all tired and grumpy,” he grouses. Liam’s grin grows even wider.

            “I bet you’re adorable when you’re grumpy,” he says, a teasing lilt in his tone.

            “Hey, fuck you, I’m adorable all the time,” Atlas retorts, a matching grin on his own face. Liam laughs, then, and the sound is warm and bright and it makes Atlas forget, if only for a moment, about all of the things that have gone wrong.

* * *

            A half hour later, Atlas is standing half-naked in the armory. His shirt and hoodie have been discarded on the floor next to him, and he’s only managed to fasten the lower half of his armor onto his body. He’d gotten distracted with a message on his omni-tool when Cora and Liam had walked in. He barely looks up before turning his attention back to the ‘tool.

            “Hey, wicked scars. Where’d you get ‘em?” Liam asks, gesturing to Atlas’ chest. He looks down distractedly before looking back up.

            “These?” he asks, his fingers tracing the two on his chest.

            “Yeah. Scars like that must have a great story behind them,” Liam says. Cora crosses her arms, glancing between the two of them, almost like she’s worried about him. He has a feeling that she knows. Maybe Dad told her, maybe it was in some record somewhere, or maybe she just had experience with these things.

            “ I’d like to be able to wow you with some fantastic war story to make myself seem cool, but it’d be a lie. I was assigned female at birth. It didn’t agree with me,” he answers, closing the interface on his omni-tool with a grin. It takes a minute for Liam to fully understand what was said, but when he does his eyes widen almost comically.

            “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I must seem like an insen-” he begins, but Atlas cuts him off quickly enough.

            “No, don’t worry about it. I’m so used to it that sometimes I forget not everyone knows,” he says, reaching out and clapping Liam’s shoulder. He turns back to his locker, then, pulling the undershirt out. Behind him, Liam and Cora turn their attention to their own lockers.

* * *

            CH: I knew before. I just wanted you to know. Alec thought about letting the rest of the Pathfinder team know and letting them know that he wouldn’t tolerate any derogatory remarks, but he decided your identity was your own. He never wanted to pressure you.

            AR: so how did you know

            CH: We were talking once, and he told me that you had just started hormone therapy. It took me a minute to understand.

            AR: oh

            AR: thank you

            AR: it’s good to know that he never wanted to pressure me

            CH: Of course. I thought it might help.

            AR: it does, i think.

            AR: thank you, cora

* * *

            Eos is indeed the desert wasteland that Atlas had feared it would be. He’s complaining as soon as he steps off of the _Tempest_ because of the sweltering heat. He’s not a big fan of all the sand, either, and he’s sure that when he gets back onto the ship that he’ll be shaking it out of his armor for days.  

            “The heat is not dangerous, Pathfinder. However, radiation levels on Eos are higher than normal and exceed safe levels. A shield to block the radiation’s effects surrounds the settlement site, but you should exercise caution about going beyond the shield’s effects,” SAM tells him. He lets out a huff, rolling his eyes. Of course the AI wouldn’t let him grumble in peace.

            “I don’t want to go anywhere except for the _Tempest_ right now. It’s too hot,” he whines, and he can feel a headache building in between his temples.

            “Well, the quicker we fix the atmosphere, the quicker we can go back to the _Tempest_ ,” Liam says, glancing over at him as they jog up the hill, a grin on his face.

            “Oh, sure, because it’s that easy. Just fix the atmosphere, no big deal,” he grumbles, but there’s a good-natured smile on his face despite his complaints.

            “If anyone can do it, it’s you,” Cora tells him, and Atlas tries not to let it go to his head.

            Thirty minutes later, after running all over the settlement and getting into a firefight with an unfortunate group of kett, they found the Nomad. The sun shone off the white paint with an almost painful glare as the vehicle rolled to a stop a few feet away from them. It was all gleaming metal and new tires, and while Atlas had never been all that interested in mechanics, he felt a certain fondness for it already.

            “Holy shit. Is this what it’s like getting your own car?” he asks, almost reverently, as he walks towards the vehicle.

            “It does belong to you now, Pathfinder,” SAM tells him, matter-of-factly. Atlas shares a look with Liam, grinning.

            “Thanks, SAM. Well, what do you say? You two ready to get going? We’ve got an atmosphere to fix, after all,” he says, slowing to a stop. The doors open automatically as he places one hand on the side of the Nomad, and he grins.

            “On one condition,” Cora says, a wry grin on her face.

            “And what’s that, Harper?” Atlas returns, glancing at her over his shoulder.

            “I get to drive,” she answers. He pauses, pretending to consider, before nodding and jumping in the back.

            The Nomad is much more spacious than he anticipated- the back has seats that can be flipped back into the wall if storage is needed. He stretches out on the first one he finds, laying down with his arms behind his head. Liam follows him, nudging his feet over before sitting down as Cora climbs into the driver’s seat. The doors lower again as Cora starts the vehicle, the inside lights coming on and sweet, sweet air conditioning blasting through the vents. Atlas groans in relief, turning so he’s facing one of the vents. Liam rests a hand on Atlas’ thigh, nudging him so he drapes his legs over his lap.

            “Just so you all know, if we end up spending most of our time in this thing, Pathfinding is suddenly something I’m much more willing to do,” Atlas mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut.

            “Maybe we should get some pillows and blankets off the _Tempest_ and keep them in here,” Liam teases, stretching his legs out and propping them up on the seat across from him.

            “Listen, I know you weren’t being serious, but that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard. We could make a nest of blankets on the floor. Pathfinding is hard work. It’d be well-deserved,” he answers.

            “Wouldn’t including something like, say, a mobile armory be more efficient?” Cora asks, shifting the Nomad into six-wheel drive as they start up a hill.

            “All forward stations are equipped with basic weapons and armor supplies, Lieutenant Harper,” SAM replies.

            “See, even SAM agrees. Pillows and blankets would be better,” Atlas says, his eyes still shut. He’s hyperaware of how Liam’s hand hasn’t left his thigh yet, though.

            “I did not say that, Pathfinder, however, it would have no negative repercussions,” SAM says. Atlas blinks his eyes open, grinning, as Liam laughs.

            “I told you,” he says, victorious. Cora scoffs, and even though all he can see is the back of her head, he knows she’s rolling her eyes.

* * *

            Atlas is reaching his arm out, his omni-tool lit up, to interface with the console when he is suddenly on the ground. It takes a moment to register that he’s no longer standing, and another to realize that an asari is sitting on his lap. She grins sheepishly at him, and then Liam has his gun in her face.

            “Back up, or I will put you down,” he snarls. She holds her hands up, the grin fading quickly from her face.

            “Whoa, easy. You’ve come this far, just let it ride,” she says, turning to look up at him. Liam glances down at Atlas and only lowers his gun when he nods, reaching out and awkwardly patting his boot. “I’ve been studying this tech for months. I don’t know how you activated those glyphs, but you have to let them cycle through their channels. It’s going to be all right. Trust me, okay?” she says, grinning again as she pats his chest. She jumps up then, turning around, the wide grin still on her face. Liam pulls Atlas to his feet, shooting a glare at the asari.

            “Right, okay, first thing first, who are you?” Atlas asks as Liam checks him over.

            “I’m Pelessaria B’Sayle, but call me Peebee. No need to introduce yourself- I know who you are, I saw the ship. I was starting to think the Initiative just made the Pathfinders up to give us all something to hope for, but you’re real,” she says, a sort of dazed wonder on her face for a fleeting second.

            “Really? You wanna knock me down a few more times to be sure?” he asks. Liam finishes whatever checkup he was doing, but he doesn’t step away, staying close and keeping his hand on his gun.

            “Nope, I think we’re good. You’re pretty solidly built,” Peebee answers. Just then, the monolith lights up behind her, focused beams of light splitting apart from the top.

            “Well, look at that,” Cora breathes. Atlas turns to look at her when he sees the robot rising behind her. He swears, his biotics lighting up as he charges it.

            Everything seems to happen all at once after that. Everyone is diving into cover, dodging as the Remnant try to encircle them. Atlas’ amp is heating up as he charges and throws them around, and the idea of letting it cool down is only a thought that crosses his mind once before he ignores it, pushing Peebee out of the way of an incoming laser beam.

            It ends just as suddenly as it began, the sudden quiet making his heart pound in his ears. The headache he’d felt earlier is there in full force, nearly making him sick as his amp whirs slightly. The back of his neck feels too warm, and he wonders if his amp will burn him should he touch it.

            “It looks like we need to just follow the paths. I’ll let you do all the legwork- I’ll stay on the comm,” Peebee says, after she’s caught her breath. He nods, and once she’s turned away he staggers back to the Nomad, taking a moment to lean against it. Cora and Liam are already inside by the time he climbs up, much less eager than he’d been the first time.

            “C’mere,” Liam says, motioning Atlas over to him. Atlas obeys, too distracted by the pain in his head to do much else, and Liam guides him so that he’s laying face down on the seats, his legs dangling off the edge and his upper body in Liam’s lap. He rests his cheek on his upper thigh, squeezing his eyes shut.

            “There a point to all this?” he grunts, but he hears something popping and snapping before there’s something blessedly cold on the back of his neck.

            “I brought some ice packs. You mentioned they helped,” Liam murmurs, one hand hesitantly running through Atlas’ hair. He groans, shifting around until he’s comfortable.

            “You’re a goddamn saint, Kosta,” he breathes, and Liam’s chuckle is warm and bright and everything that Atlas had ever hoped for.

* * *

            “I know it is unfair, Pathfinder, but your choice of outpost will reflect on the entire Initiative and what we are here for,” SAM tells him, and Atlas looks out over the lake, swallowing hard. His heart feels like it might beat its way out of his ribcage, and he hates how everything falls to him now.

            “I knew a Pathfinder’s job was supposed to be tough, but I didn’t think it’d be this tough,” he murmurs to himself, crossing his arms over his chest. He stares down into the water, thinking.

            A military outpost would give them a foothold to push back the kett, but did he want to send that message about the Milky Way?

            “What’s the matter?” Liam asks, his voice gentle as he lays one hand on Atlas’ arm.

            “Dad always told me I was too idealistic to make decisions like this,” he breathes, his eyes on the horizon and resolutely not on the man standing next to him. He feels like he might break and shatter any moment from the weight of the decisions placed upon him. He thinks of his namesake, the titan who was cursed to hold the whole world on his back. He wraps his arms around his stomach and realizes he can sympathize.

            “Idealism is good. It’s what we need, in a time like this, when everyone is so damn desperate,” Liam murmurs, his hand slipping down to clasp Atlas’ for a brief second before letting go.

            Atlas remembers waking up in SAM node, back from the dead with ribs aching from all he’d lost, and he remembers Liam gathering him into his arms and murmuring assurances. He thinks of the way the blue glow of his biotics had lit Liam’s face in the dark, and how it made the gold in his eyes shine. _Maybe,_ he thinks, _there’s a place in this strange new galaxy for his brand of idealism._ Maybe Andromeda doesn’t have to be war and death and military like the Milky Way. Maybe, just maybe, they can make something better here.

            “SAM? Tell them to send down a scientific outpost,” Atlas says, and he is proud when his voice is strong and clear. He glances over his shoulder, and Liam’s grin is brilliant in its intensity.

* * *

            The vault had been a horrifying experience, but watching the new settlement fold out before them was definitely worth it, even if Atlas is sure he’s going to have nightmares about it all later. Cora has wandered off a short distance, talking to Drack about what he should expect on the _Tempest_ , but Liam’s stuck by Atlas’ side as Addison makes her way over to them.

            “Well, well. I’m glad to see you’ve proven me wrong, Pathfinder. You did good work,” she says, a chipper smile on her face.

            “You didn’t have that attitude before,” Atlas reminds her. Liam shifts nervously next to him.

            “Yeah, what’s your game, Addison? Trying to play nice with the Pathfinder now that you know he’s not full of it?” Liam asks. Atlas shoots him a surprised glance, but the grin on his face lets him know he’s grateful for the support.

            “I understand why you would feel that way. However, we ran out of blind hope on the Nexus a long time before you arrived. You lack any of the formal training that your father had- of course I doubted you. Your cocky attitude didn’t help, either,” Addison answers, her shoulders stiffening underneath the hot desert sun.

            “I know we might have been better off if Dad made it off of Habitat 7 alive,” Atlas begins, sharing another look with Liam, “but I’m what you got. And if you want to get technical, I didn’t survive that planet either. I was clinically dead for twenty-two seconds and when I woke up on the Hyperion they told me I lost my father and had inherited a job I was _completely untrained for_. I doubt it would have killed you to be a little bit more welcoming.” He crosses his arms over his chest, straightening his spine and standing up straight. His chin juts out at a defiant angle, despite how much he wanted to curl in on himself until it was time to return to the _Tempest_.

            “Perhaps we both reacted in ways that we shouldn’t have, Atlas. I realize now that I was perhaps too harsh. I didn’t consider any grief you might be feeling,” she concedes.

            “I was an arrogant bastard. But that was probably because Kesh was the only one who acted like I might be able to do this whole Pathfinding thing after all,” he says, and Liam’s still looking warily at Addison.

            “Perhaps we should start over to clear the air between us,” she suggests, a wry grin on her face, and Atlas thinks that despite that rocky start, he and Addison might be okay after all.

            “That sounds…nice. But one condition,” he says, glancing over at Liam.

            “And what’s that?” Addison asks, a wariness creeping into her tone.

            “You don’t bring up my dad again. Ever,” he tells her, and there’s an undercurrent of cold steel in his voice. Liam puts one hand on his shoulder, and Atlas finds himself basking in the silent reassurance.

            “That’s fair. Very well, Atlas. I won’t mention Alec again,” she says, holding out her hand. He reaches out, shaking her hand briefly before turning back to the _Tempest_.

            “We should probably head on out. I know they want us to return to the Nexus before we follow up on this lead, and I’d like to get started as soon as possible,” he says.

            “Very well. I’ll see you aboard the Nexus,” she replies, dipping her head in farewell as Atlas heads off, Liam following a half-step behind him.

* * *

            AR: cora

            AR: cora help

            AR: i’m having boy trouble

            CH: Is this the “I need to hide a body” trouble, or “I like someone” trouble?

            CH: Also, why are you asking me? I’m not an expert in this by any means.

            AR: idk i just had a feeling i could trust u

            AR: and that u’d help

            AR: u seem like the mom friend

            AR: anyway it’s the “i like him” kind of trouble

            CH: Mom friend?

            CH: This wouldn’t happen to be a local crisis response specialist, would it?

            AR: am i that obvious

            CH: I’m probably the only one that’s noticed.

            CH: But he likes you, too.

            CH: I can tell.

            AR: wait what really

            AR: cora u can’t leave it there u have to tell me everything

            CH: He looks at you the same way you look at him.

            CH: Honestly, if you two keep trying to deny this, then I’m going to have to step in.

            CH: And I happen to hate meddling in others’ affairs.

            AR: cora i’ve known him for like three days i can’t have feelings already

            CH: Maybe not deep, profound feelings.

            CH: But I’d say that wanting to do him on his couch is a feeling.

            AR: oh my god

            AR: i literally cannot believe you said that

            AR: anyway say i did want to do him on that couch

            AR: how would i go about expressing that desire?

            AR: is he even into men?

            CH: I’d tell you to just tell him, but you wouldn’t listen, so there’s no point.

            CH: And I don’t know if he likes men, but I know he definitely likes you.

            CH: I had a nice view of the look on his face while he was icing your amp.

            CH: Speaking of, we need to have a conversation about the way you  overheat your amp.

            AR: dammit cora

            AR: my boy problems are more important

            CH: I’ll see you in five minutes, Atlas.

            CH: I’m heading to your quarters now.

            AR: cora

            AR: cora why

            AR: fine

            AR: but you have to help me with liam

            CH: I know. You’ve got it bad for him.

            CH: Now open your door.

            CH: You can’t lock me out forever.

            CH: I have the authorization codes to make SAM open it.

            AR: hold on i’m putting clothes on

            AR: and SAM would never betray me like that

            SAM: Atlas, I am bound by protocol to open the door should she use the authorization codes.

            AR: how dare

            AR: as soon as sierra wakes up i’m making her help me change that

            AR: anyway i’m decent now come on in cora

* * *

            The Nexus was steadily improving. The docking bay had expanded tenfold since the last time Atlas had seen it, and as he’s ushered towards the trams he notices a bar tucked away into the corner. Once he takes his seat on the tram, he opens his omni-tool.

            AR: meet me in vortex when i’m done?

            LK: sounds like a date

            AR: a date, huh? ;)

            LK: well, i wouldn’t say no to one with you ;)

            “Pathfinder? Are you all right? You look…strange,” the assistant asks. She was a salarian, an assistant of Tann’s, and she’d been sent to fetch him. She was nice, if quiet. He supposed he’d be quiet, too, if he had a boss like Tann. Atlas clears his throat, his cheeks burning as he closes the interface on his ‘tool.

            “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Great, actually. Eager to get this meeting underway,” he says, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected Liam to respond at all to his attempt at flirting, much less respond like that.

            CH: So, Liam tells me the two of you have a date.

            CH: He’s unclear whether it’s a date as friends, as coworkers, or as something else.

            AR: hoo boy

            AR: i asked him to meet me in vortex when i finish this pathfinder bullshit

            AR: he said ‘sounds like a date’

            AR: so i said ‘a date, huh?’

            AR: and then he said ‘well, i wouldn’t say no’

            AR: and here we are

            AR: honestly I was wondering the same thing

            AR: holy shit cora

            AR: did i just ask him on a date

            CH: That’s…what it sounds like.

            CH: Do you want me to tell him that you wouldn’t be opposed to the idea?

            AR: will u phrase it like that

            AR: i don’t wanna come on too strong

            CH: Relax, Atlas. I know what I’m doing.

            CH: I won’t scare him off, I promise.

            CH: Trust me.

            AR: okay i do but for the record i’m still scared shitless

            AR: he’s really nice

            AR: and hot

            AR: and cora holy shit i’m so gay

            CH: I’ll keep that in mind.

            CH: I got this, though.

            AR: okay i’d like to stay and freak out more but we’re at the pathfinder’s hall now

            AR: see you later

            AR: ok wait b4 i go will u go to vortex too and idk hang out in the back

            AR: just to watch n make sure nothing goes wrong?

            CH: I’ll be there, in the darkest corner I can find.

            CH: I swear, at this point, if you two don’t get together at least for a while, I’m hitting you both.

            AR: what would i do w/o ur support

            CH: Suffer, I suppose.

* * *

            The meeting wasn’t as dull as Atlas expected, and it was a little thrilling to see his own achievements plastered everywhere, even if that was only because it helped the entire Nexus. It felt a little like getting his artwork posted on the fridge again.  Still, he was glad when the meeting was over.

            He slips through the crowd, dodging anyone that looks like they might want to talk about them. He feels a little guilty, but he plans on coming back later, when he’s had time to decompress and enjoy himself at least a little, and there’s a seat at the bar with his name on it.

            The trams are mercifully empty, and once he’s seated he brings up his omni-tool and sends Liam a quick message to let him know he’s on his way before slouching down in his seat. He drags his fingers through his hair, wishing for one frantic moment that he could take the time to dash back to the _Tempest_ and make himself look more presentable. He can’t remember the last time he’d brushed his hair or the last time he’d changed out of his hoodie, even though he knew he could clean up nice if he put the effort in.

            He spends the whole tram ride agonizing about the hoodie he’s wearing, his leg jiggling nervously until the tram stops and he can dart through the crowd on the docks. There were a lot more people around than before, and some of them stare at him curiously. He ducks his head down and keeps moving, stopping outside of Vortex. He can hear the steady bass beat from inside, making him feel like his heartbeat has been amplified. He takes a deep breath and a second to compose himself, to put his charming, easy grin on his face, and then he heads through the door.

            He sees Liam sitting in a booth next to the bar. He raises his glass at him, a brilliant grin on his face, and Atlas lets his eyes scan the crowd until he notices Cora, half-hidden on the other side of the bar. He pretends like he doesn’t see her and slides into the seat opposite Liam. “So, how’s the galaxy’s most handsome man doing?” he asks.

            “I don’t know. How are you doing, Atlas?” he returns, a playful grin on his face.

            “Better, now that I’m here with you,” he says, leaning back and stretching his legs out until his knees brush against Liam’s under the table.

            “You may not feel that way in a minute. I got you something,” he says, grabbing a shopping bag that Atlas hadn’t noticed until now.

            “That’s…not usually what people say before giving me a gift,” he answers, almost cautiously.

            “Yeah, well, this is the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” Liam tells him, before pulling out whatever the gift is and tossing it at Atlas.

            He barely has a chance to catch it. It takes him a second to realize it’s a tank top. The fabric is a blend of polyester and cotton, clearly meant for working out. It’s only after he unfolds it that he catches sight of the cartoon hanar on the front, a gun held in one of its tentacles.

            “Oh my god. You got me a Blasto shirt,” he says, partly in disbelief. He hadn’t expected to see any clothing like that for sale in Andromeda.

            “Yeah, there’s actually a thrift store here. It’s not got a lot of merchandise, just stuff that people have donated here in favor of Andromeda styles and things they took from the exiles, but I found the Blasto shirts and I couldn’t resist. I got one for me, too,” Liam replies, almost sheepishly.

            “You got us _matching_ Blasto shirts? Liam, this is the best thing ever!” he exclaims, and he can’t keep the genuine grin off his face any longer. Liam thinks that there’s nothing in the world he wouldn’t do to see that grin again, with the way it lit up Atlas’ whole face.

            “You like it? Wait, please tell me you don’t like the Blasto movies. They were absolute shit after the first one,” he says, and he motions to the bartender for two more of whatever he’s drinking. It’s something new, made from ingredients straight from Eos, and it’s heavy and sweet and pretty damn good in his opinion.

            “The first one was okay. Never was a big fan of the ones that came after, but I watched them all anyway. The last three were so awful that they were comedic gold. Sierra and I would always marathon them whenever anything went wrong. It started when this asari dumped her, ‘cause she didn’t want to get as serious as Sierra did. Then it just sort of became a tradition. Get a big tub of ice cream, make some popcorn, make fun of the shitty effects,” he explains. A waitress comes over, leaving the drinks on the table. Atlas picks one up absentmindedly- he thinks that might be the most information he’s volunteered about himself since waking up in Andromeda.

            “I had a similar tradition with my best friend back in the Milky Way. We’d watch horrible hanar romances together,” he replies, a faraway look in his eyes.

            “We should start something like that. I can have SAM download everything off the Nexus archives. It can be a just us thing, or we could include everyone,” Atlas offers.

            “We could do both. I’d like to have something that’s just us. Aside from the awful shirts,” Liam says, his voice soft and a smile on his face.

            “It shouldn’t take long to get it set up. I’ll have SAM go ahead and download the files. You get first pick, and we’ll find some snacks, maybe even make a blanket fort,” he says. Maybe he could make his move then, in the moment, when it feels right.

            “I look forward to it, Pathfinder,” he answers, and Atlas finds that he doesn’t mind the way the title sounds coming out of Liam’s mouth.

            “As do I, Kosta. But for now, do you wanna dance, maybe? The floor’s starting to fill up, so we won’t be alone,” he asks, glancing over.

            “I’d love to. But you should know how downright awful I am at dancing,” he says, but when he stands he puts his hand on the small of Atlas’ back to guide him through the crowd and Atlas thinks there’s nothing else he’d rather have.

* * *

            “Pathfinder, we have found a way to speak to your sister,” SAM tells him. Atlas freezes in the middle of the docking bay, one foot forward.

            “Really, SAM?” he asks, looking at Liam with his whole face is lighting up from the news.

            “Go see her, Atlas. The _Tempest_ will be waiting for you,” Liam says, a grin on his face. He nods before turning and dashing to the trams, bringing his omni-tool up to call one over.

            The cryo bay is bustling with activity. In the middle of it all, Sierra lays stretched out on one of the beds, her sunset orange hair making a halo on the pillow.

            “SAM said I could talk to her?” Atlas asks, breathless, not even bothering to greet Dr. Carlyle.

            “Yes. I’m not sure how he managed it, but he said he could do something through the implants. Sit down in this chair, and he’ll set up the connection. He can’t keep it up for long, but it’s something,” Dr. Carlyle answers, laying a hand briefly on Atlas’ shoulder.

            “Thank you, Dr. Carlyle,” he breathes, taking his seat. There is a moment while SAM sets up the connection, and then he hears it, inside his head.

            _Atlas? Is that you? What’s happening?_ Sierra asks.

            “Yeah, sis, it’s me. Listen to me, you’re in a coma in the cryo bay on the Hyperion. Do you understand?” he asks.

            _Yeah. Can’t believe we got a six hundred year nap, and here I am, oversleeping. Where’s Dad? How pissed is he at me for this?_ she asks, her face twitching in a grin.

            “Sierra…I’m sorry. Dad’s dead. He died on the first planet we landed on,” Atlas tells her, his voice thick. He reaches down and takes her hand, clasping it between his.

            _What do you mean dead? How did it happen? Never mind. Tell me when I’m awake- I don’t think this connection will last long. What about home? Is Andromeda everything we thought it would be?_ she asks, and he can almost picture the way her eyes would search his for the truth.

            “Not exactly, but it’s still great, Sierra. You’ll love it. I’ve got so much to tell you about it,” he says. It’s not quite the truth, but it’s not quite a lie either.

            _Thank you. I’ll try and wake up soon. Can’t have you having all the fun without me,_ she says. The connection is severed before he can reply, but when he finally sits back there’s a wide grin on his face.

            “I’ll let you know if there’s any changes,” Dr. Carlyle says, patting his back briefly before turning to another patient to give Atlas his privacy. He takes a moment to compose himself, his thumb rubbing across Sierra’s knuckles. He hadn’t let himself realize just how much he missed her.

            “I’ll be back soon, Sierra. Hopefully there’ll be some good news, next time,” he murmurs, smoothing her hair back before standing. He waves to Dr. Carlyle, and then heads for the trams.

* * *

            They land on Aya, next. It wasn’t the entrance Atlas was hoping for- the Archon had chased them through the Scourge, the _Tempest_ was on fire and barely holding it together, and Atlas was going out to make first contact wearing the shirt Liam had bought him.

            At least the planet was beautiful. The aliens were, too, although SAM was still scanning the language so they could talk. They didn’t _seem_ hostile, not like the kett had, and Atlas would wager that the kett were a thorn in the side of these aliens, too.

            It turns out he’s right. Once SAM figures out how to translate, it’s mostly smooth sailing from there. He’s led to the headquarters of the Resistance, and Atlas isn’t one prone to nervous tendencies, but he felt like he was walking on eggshells the whole time. Andromeda’s future depended on this encounter right here. He tried to think of what his father would do. That was more trouble than help, but somehow, he managed to get through it until he was standing awkwardly on the docks with the newest addition to the Tempest’s crew.

            “So…Welcome to the team? I’ve never done anything like this before, so I apologize in advance for anything I say that’s offensive. I also want to apologize ahead of time for the crew- they haven’t had much experience with new cultures, either,” he says, strangely breathless. He thinks the angaran looks amused.

            “My people have never experienced a peaceful first contact, either. It would seem we are both out of our depth,” Jaal replies.

            “Right. I just…I really hope I can help your people. And I want you to know, completely off the record, that I’m not doing it for an alliance. I’m not doing it so you’ll give us access to the vault. I’m doing it because your people deserve better. I’m just glad the Resistance’s goals line up with the Initiative’s goals. I’m kind of their poster child right now, and I can’t see them letting me do this otherwise. I suppose I could always tell them to go to hell and steal the ship anyway, but that’d be…a very bad idea,” he says, his mouth finally snapping shut. He’s babbling, he knows, but he’s never been this scared of something going wrong before.

            “Relax, Pathfinder. It is not me you need to worry about impressing. Evfra will be impressed once we handle the situations on Havarl and Voeld, and he’s the only one you need to worry about,” he replies, and he’s definitely amused now if he wasn’t earlier.

            The shuttle saves Atlas from having to respond.

* * *

            Atlas is curled on one of the couches in his bedroom, a glass of wine in his hand. Liam is sitting on the opposite side of the couch with another glass of wine. At least, they’re pretty sure it’s wine- Jaal had given it to Atlas as a gesture of goodwill, but he’d neglected to mention whether or not it was actually alcoholic.

            “So, Atlas, I’ve been wondering something. Where did you get your name? Did you pick it, or…?” Liam asks, shifting to face him.

            “Yeah, I picked it after I came out. My deadname didn’t fit anymore, so I asked Mom for a list of names that she and Dad had been considering while she was pregnant. There were some more…normal names, I guess, but there were a lot of mythological or historical ones. Mom didn’t tell me until later that those were the ones Dad had picked out,” he answers, taking a sip of the cloyingly sweet wine.

            “Wow. I…never imagined Alec Ryder would be the one to pick out names like that,” he says. Atlas stares into the wine in his cup, a faraway look in his eyes. He’s fairly certain the drink is alcoholic or something because he’s definitely feeling some kind of buzz, and the way Liam is looking at him is doing something weird to his insides, making them feel all melted and warm.

            “Yeah, it was…weird, finding out, I guess. I always expected Mom to be the one to come up with those things. I guess we should count ourselves lucky, though,” he says, looking up with a grin.

            “Oh? And why’s that?” Liam asks, a mirroring grin on his own face.

            “I almost decided on Galileo,” he answers. There’s a second where Liam looks startled by the answer before he laughs, a warm and rich sound that makes the tips of Atlas’ ears turn red.

            “Oh my god, you have to be kidding,” he says, something warm and bright in his eyes.

            “Nope, cross my heart. I thought there was something poetic about having the name of an old astronomer and living in space. For the record, I think it’s much better than Tycho Brahe. I mean, god, can you imagine?” he says, glancing out the window. They’re somewhere in space, on their way to Havarl, and the stars are shining bright just outside the _Tempest_.

            “Ugh, I don’t think I _want_ to imagine that. That would be, like, the worst possible name for you. You are _definitely_ not a Tycho,” he replies. He tries not to look at the way the wine is turning Atlas’ lips red.

            “Heh, yeah. I guess Atlas is kind of poetic, in a way. Although, he only had to deal with holding the Earth up. I’ve kind of got the entire Heleus cluster to contend with,” he says, glancing out the window again.

            “I’ve seen some statues of the guy. I’d like to say, with complete certainty, that you are much prettier than he is,” Liam tells him, stretching his arm out on the back of the couch, an easy grin on his face.

            “Hey, you’re not so bad yourself,” he says, and the two of them have stupid grins stretching across their faces, angaran wine heavy on their tongues.

* * *

            Havarl is, without a doubt, the worst planet he has ever been on. The wildlife is trying to kill them, the place is a damned maze, and it’s dark. He grudgingly admits that it’s beautiful, in a deadly sort of way.

            Liam tells him the light makes his eyes stand out, and when he says it he looks at Atlas like he’s ready to fall into them.

            Atlas tries to pretend he hasn’t started falling in love under the purple Havarl skies.

* * *

            “Could you do something for me? There’s something I want to requisition, but I can’t without the Pathfinder’s approval,” Liam asks one day, out of the blue, while they’re sitting on one of the couches in Atlas’ room.

            “What’s it for?” he asks, putting his datapad down and stretching.

            “Improving interspecies relationships. It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he says, a faint smile on his face.

            “All right. Forward me the forms and I’ll sign off on them,” he says, turning his attention back to the datapad.

            “Just like that?” he asks.

            “Just like that,” he answers.

* * *

            Voeld is much better, but still terrible. The cold is so bitter that it chills Atlas to the bones, and the wind is so sharp that it cuts through his armor like he hasn’t bundled up in as many layers as will fit. It’s beautiful, too, with the way the light glints off the frozen lake.

            His amp doesn’t overheat once, either, and Atlas thinks that despite the cutting cold, he could get used to it.

            He tells Liam that the snow falling around them suits him, better than anything he’s ever seen before, because he’s so warm and bright and vibrant against it. He makes the cold less, somehow, Atlas thinks.

            Liam bites his lip to keep from kissing Atlas. Instead, he reaches up, pushing his hair out of his face with a soft smile. Cora gives Atlas a knowing smirk over Liam’s shoulder.

* * *

            Atlas walks into the room that Liam’s claimed. His shirt is somewhere on the floor behind him, a piece of armor on the table.

            “You, uh, want to explain?” Atlas asks, one eyebrow quirking upwards.

            “I believe it is for me, Pathfinder,” Jaal says, walking in. Jaal’s shirt is off, too, and if anything, Atlas is more confused than ever.

            “Is this supposed to be a show for my benefit or something? Because I’m _definitely_ benefitting,” he jokes, but he lets his eyes wander over the comms specialist. Liam looks up at him with a grin.

            “Not quite. He showed me how angaran armor worked, so I thought I’d return the favor. We’ve been shit-talking, too. Great way to learn the culture,” he explains.

            “…You know, that’s actually a pretty damn good idea. Is this what that requisition was for?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame.

            “Yeah. Figured it’d help,” he replies, making room for Jaal to come stand next to him.

            “Good work, Kosta. I’ll leave the two of you to it,” he says, grinning. He nods his head, and backs out of the room. The door shuts behind him, just as the friendly bickering starts.

* * *

            Next, they make plans to move on the facility where the Moshae is being held. It is late, near the middle of the night cycle, and Atlas is awake in the kitchen, nursing a cup of decaf coffee at the table. Jaal enters, looking lost and scared.

            “Pathfinder. I was hoping I would find you,” the angara says, his voice a deep rumble.

            “Yeah? Anything I can help with?” he asks, looking up from his coffee. The circles under his eyes are dark, a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. He feels like shit, and he’d think he was getting sick if it weren’t for the fact that he’d barely eaten or slept the last couple of days.

            “I want to go with you when you to go to rescue the Moshae. I don’t know who you were planning on taking, but Atlas, this means a lot to me,” Jaal asks, taking a deep breath as he looks at him. He doesn’t have much to compare him to, but even he thinks that the Pathfinder looks like he’s being run ragged.

            “Of course, Jaal. I wouldn’t deny you this. I’ll take you and Liam. We’ll do whatever it takes to bring her back,” he promises. He wonders if his dad felt this uncertain before he’d gone through the Charon relay. He wonders what his dad would be doing in his place.

            “Thank you, Pathfinder,” he breathes, and his relief is almost tangible.

            “Anytime, Jaal. I’m going to head to bed now, message me on my omni-tool if you need anything else,” he says, standing and stretching. He nods, stepping aside and making room for him. As he steps inside his room, his omni-tool beeps.

            LK: ur interface tells me ur online

            LK: i’m going to guess you can’t sleep either

            AR: nope. i feel like shit anyway.

            AR: i’m just…terrified this mission will go wrong.

            LK: it won’t.

            LK: not with you leading us.

            LK: i know you don’t have as much confidence in yourself as you should, atlas

            LK: but you’ve done a damn fine job so far

            AR: i’d never have been able to do it without you

            AR: we make a great team, kosta

            LK: we do, don’t we?

            LK: anyway

            LK: i had something i wanted to talk to you about

            AR: well, that sounds ominous

            LK: it isn’t

            LK: at least, not for you. i may make a fool of myself, though

            AR: …sounds interesting, please continue

            LK: cora told me you were into me

            LK: like, romantically

            LK: and idk if that’s true or not, but i want to get this off of my chest

            LK: and i’m too much of a coward to do it in person, even though i’m only a few rooms away

            LK: i’m not into men. or, at least, i’ve never been into men before

            LK: but i’m into you

            LK: whatever this means

            LK: so, yeah, there’s that

            LK: please reply

            LK: don’t leave me in suspense

            AR: this was about your gay panic

            LK: atlas!! don’t leave me hanging like this!

            AR: and cora told me i was being obvious

            AR: i’m into you too, liam

            AR: you’re, like, the hottest boy i’ve ever seen

            AR: and you’re nice and kind and you really helped me after habitat 7

            AR: how could i not be into you?

            AR: i never expected this conversation to go like this, but, well, here we are

            LK: oh thank god

            LK: i was terrified cora was wrong

            LK: i’ve never done this before, not really

            LK: there were a few girls, but that was different

            LK: more casual

            LK: if we do this, i don’t want it to be casual

            AR: oh thank god

            AR: i was terrified you would

            AR: i’ve never been good with casual

            AR: i get too attached too easy

            AR: besides, even if i was good with casual

            AR: you’re worth more than that

            LK: are you basically saying i’m a keeper

            AR: can you blame me

            LK:  not really ;P

            LK: okay, okay, joking’s over

            LK: i’m glad i got this off my chest

            LK: we don’t have to take it anywhere just yet

            LK: i know we both need sleep

            LK: but at least know we know, right?

            AR: damn straight

            AR: or is it damn gay in this case?

            LK: that was the worst joke i’ve ever heard

            LK: cora’s going to hit me if i woke her up with that laugh

            AR: nerd

            AR: goodnight, liam

            LK: goodnight, atlas

            AR: oh, before i forget

            AR: i’m taking you and jaal tomorrow.

            AR: luckily we don’t have to leave until midday.

            AR: i’m up way too late for anything earlier

            LK: go get some sleep, pathfinder

            LK: i’ll see you in the morning

* * *

            AR: listen cora i know i’m literally leaving right now but

            AR: liam told me last night he likes me

            CH: Twenty credits says the two of you hook up before the end of the week.

            AR: cora pls that’s not how it works

            CH: Make it thirty credits.

            AR: fine ur on

            AR: we both dance around our feelings too much anyway lmao

            AR: those thirty creds are mine

            CH: Whatever you say, Ryder.

            CH: Do be careful, though.

            CH: If you win because you got too hurt to make a move, I’m kicking your ass myself.

            AR: duly noted cora

            AR: see you on the flip side

            CH: See you then.

            CH: And, of course, good luck.

* * *

            Atlas finds Liam after the mission. He thinks they’re both still horrified at what they’d seen, both desperately trying to process it, but he hadn’t expected to see Liam on the floor, in the middle of a set of crunches, his shirt soaked with sweat and riding up on his stomach. His jaw is clenched, his eyebrows slanted down, and Atlas wishes this were easier to swallow. Even so, he has to drag his eyes away from the smooth skin of his stomach.

            “You’re working hard,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning in the doorway. Liam stops, laying out on the floor for a moment.

            “All the time. I started when I was young- I was a smart kid, got angry a lot. It’s a side effect of giving a shit,” he answers, something hard in his voice.

            “Want to talk about it?” he asks. Liam pushes himself up into a sitting position.

            “It’s just…that kett facility, on Voeld. We kicked them in the teeth, which was great, but they’re stealing what people _are_ , and everyone should have a stake in that. So, I reached out, tried to get resources moving to bridge the gap, like I did with Jaal. I can’t get permission from anyone. Everyone is like ‘can’t take risks with outsiders.’ I didn’t come here so everyone could be a goddamn _outsider_ ,” he snarls, his chest heaving with the effort. There is something wild in his eyes, something hard and angry.

            “I know what you mean. It’s fucking stupid that they won’t do anything. We could make a big damn difference if they’d get the sticks out of their asses and see what we’re trying to do! It’s not like they don’t need this, too,” he agrees, his fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt.

            “Exactly. We have to make it work here, we’re not going back to the Milky Way. I wanted this, with everything new, but eventually it has to be normal. I need something familiar,” he sighs, stalking over to the couch, a restlessness to his movements. He stops, turning to Atlas. “Did you bring anything from the Milky Way?” he asks.

            Atlas takes a seat on the couch before answering. “A few things, yeah. The weight limits were strict, so I couldn’t bring much. Just a few sentimental things, like this one stuffed dolphin I’ve had since I was a kid,” he says, finally, as Liam takes a seat next to him. He waits for Liam to tell him how silly it is, how foolishly sentimental. Alec had told him all of that and more, telling him he should’ve brought something more practical. It never comes, not from Liam, though, and all he can feel is grateful.

            “Yeah, the weight limits were why I made arrangements,” Liam tells him, pulling up something on his omni-tool before holding his wrist out towards Atlas. He scoots closer to see a picture of a car. It’s an old one, from well before humans became a space-faring race.

“It’s a proper petrol-burner. 20th century, British, from when that mattered. My whole family worked on it together during weekends. Some friends in HUSTL set me up good. They borrowed a transport, right before I went into cryo. Me and my mother and my father loaded our car in it, and pointed it at Andromeda,” he tells him, one hand resting on Atlas’ knee.

            “You know you’re never going to see it again, right?” Atlas asks, leaning against him. They’re touching everywhere- shoulders, thighs, knees, but even so he finds himself wanting to be _closer_ , pressed up against him like there’s nothing else in the universe that matters.

            “Of course. It’s two million years away, at light speed. But the point is that it’s coming, and that it always will be,” he tells him, glancing up at him. His eyes are wide and the light makes them look honey-gold and endlessly deep.

 For a moment, Atlas feels like he is on the edge of an abyss, and that any second he could tumble into it, dragging Liam with him. He reaches up, cupping his face in his hand, his thumb hesitantly tracing his cheekbone. There’s a second that passes between them, something hot and soft and careful and needy flashing in honey-gold eyes before Liam is pulling him closer, angling his body and pressing his lips to his, one hand sliding up his thigh, and Atlas thinks wildly, desperately, that they have jumped instead of fallen. He drags his hand down, curling his fingers in Liam’s shirt, and kisses him like he’s starving for his touch.

            He moves, shifting until they’re laying down, pulling Liam with him until the edge of the couch is digging into his back, but Liam is hovering over him with his knee in between his thighs and a look in his eyes that makes something hot and liquid coil in the pit of his stomach. He groans, and Liam starts trailing kisses, pressing them to the corner of his mouth, against his jaw, down his neck. He pauses for a moment, his tongue flicking over the skin, and then he nips and Atlas lets out a strangled moan, his hips jerking upwards.

            One of Liam’s fingers dips down below the waistband of Atlas’ jeans and he tenses for a half-second. It’s enough to make Liam stop, looking down at him, his brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

            “Liam, wait, before we go any farther, there’s something I should tell you,” he pants, even though it almost _hurts_ when he pulls away, and he has to stop himself from pulling him back down.

            “What is it? I haven’t hurt you, have I?” he asks, worry creasing his face.

            “No! No, nothing like that, it’s just…I got top surgery, but I, ah, never got bottom surgery. I just, uh, didn’t want you to be surprised,” he says, biting his bottom lip.

            “Oh, thank god. I was worried I’d managed to upset you. I can definitely work with that,” he promises, his voice husky and that _look_ coming back into his eyes. He leans down again, trailing one hand up his chest and the _want_ is flaring back up in the pit of his stomach.

            “If you’re going to get cocky, you better be able to put your money where your mouth is,” he returns, trailing his fingers up Liam’s side.

            “I’ve got another plan for where my mouth should go, Pathfinder, but maybe we should take this to your room,” he says, already leaning back again.

            “Do we have to?” he whines, but he uncurls his fingers from his shirt and lets him go.

            “We don’t have to, but this couch is damn small,” he tells him, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin, one hand planted on Atlas’ chest.

            “Fine, fine, you’ve convinced me. I swear to god, though, if we run into someone, I’m kicking both your ass _and_ theirs,” he grumbles, and Liam clambers off of him, pulling him up by the wrist.

            “Deal,” he replies, and then he’s dragging Atlas through the ship, which is blessedly empty. It must be shift change or there’s a meeting they forgot about or maybe Cora just had the foresight to clear everyone out, god knows she’s been working her ass off to try and get them together.

            The second the door shuts behind them, Liam has Atlas pressed up against it, his lips against his again. Atlas cards his fingers through Liam’s hair, desperately thinking _SAM door lock_ , but somehow the AI manages to understand what he wants, and the lock turns red. He can feel the AI logging off half a second later, leaving his mind blessedly empty and blessedly private. Liam pulls back long enough to pull his shirt over his head before moving for Atlas’, who shrugs out of it and pulls Liam back against him before the shirt has even hit the ground. His knee is back between his thighs, his mouth sucking bruises onto the sensitive skin of his neck, it’s all he can do to keep standing, his legs trembling.

          “Liam,” he gasps, his nails scraping lines down his back, and he feels him shudder against him. Liam pulls back, just a little, out of breath.

           “Bed. Now,” he orders, and then Atlas has turned them around and he scrambles backwards, pulling Liam with him, towards the mattress on the floor. He wishes, for once, that he’d kept it on the bedframe so they wouldn’t have so far to fall, but somehow Liam manages to ease them down gently. His lips are back against his almost immediately, his kisses growing more and more desperate. His hands run down Atlas’ chest, his thumbs rubbing over the twin scars as he nips and sucks on his bottom lip until Atlas is a whining, moaning mess.

           He can’t believe this actually happening, even as Liam’s hands finally trail down even lower, fumbling for a second before popping open the button on his jeans and tugging on them. He raises his hips, his brain short-circuiting as he pulls them down to his ankles. He boxers follow, and then he’s spread open in front of Liam, feeling so exposed and needy. There’s already another whine building in his throat as Liam shifts back, his hands resting on either of his thighs to hold them apart. Honey-gold eyes meet steel-grey ones and Liam bites his lip, his thumb rubbing circles on Atlas’ inner thighs.

            “Fuck, Atlas, you look so good,” he says, and he groans, his hands trailing upwards, closer and closer to their destination until the anticipation is killing them both.

             “Liam, fuck, please, don’t keep me waiting,” Atlas whines, and Liam smirks as he leans over, pressing a kiss to his jawline and trailing them downwards from there. He stops for a moment at his abs, running his tongue along the smooth skin and chuckling to himself at the way Atlas squirms before he moves on, shifting backwards and hooking his arms under his legs, his hands resting on his hips. He pauses, looking up as if asking for permission. Atlas reaches down, linking his fingers with Liam’s, and nods.

             His head dips down, his tongue moving in gentle, feather-like strokes before alternating between short, quick flicks against his clit and longer, deeper licks that left Atlas tightening his grip on Liam’s hand. He kept his pace slow- they had hours, and he was happy to spend them with his head between Atlas’ thighs, with every noise the pathfinder made going straight to his cock. He slides his arm out from underneath his leg and leans back just a little, taking the time to undo his own jeans and push them down before bringing his hand up and letting his fingers drag up and down the length of Atlas’ slit.

          “You’re absolutely dripping,” he whispers, and Atlas lets out an embarrassed whine, his one hand clawing at the sheets. Liam presses a kiss to his thigh and slides two fingers inside. He moves slow, letting him adjust to the feeling, before he leans back down, his tongue flicking over his clit.

          “Oh god, fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he pants, his hips squirming no matter how hard he tries to stay still.

          “Is there a problem with that?” Liam rasps, pulling back just long enough to answer the question.

          “I want you,” is all he says in response, and Liam grins up at him.

           “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he teases, but there’s an unsteadiness in his voice as he eases his fingers out and kisses his way back up Atlas’ body. He takes a moment to appreciate how the other man looks, his legs spread open, red-faced and desperate, before their lips are pressed together.

             He’s gentle as he pushes inside, even though Atlas is squirming beneath him. He reaches up, cupping his face, as he starts to move, and both of them are gasping and groaning. Atlas’ nails rake down Liam’s back as he pulls him closer, throwing one leg around his waist.

            Their kisses morph into something that is all tongue and teeth and desperation, and even though he tries to hold out, Liam finds his thrusts growing erratic. Atlas comes, clenching around him, and Liam finds himself tipping over the edge and following, pressing kisses anywhere he can reach as they ride out the aftershocks.

            Afterwards, they lay tangled together in the sheets, Liam on his back and Atlas sprawled across him, his cheek pressed against his skin.  

            “Well, I guess I owe Cora thirty credits,” he says, his fingertips lazily tracing patters on Liam’s chest.

            “Wait, you two had a bet on this?” Liam asks, running his fingers up and down Atlas’ back. He’d expected him to be almost angry, but he only sounded curious.

            “Right before we left, she bet me thirty credits that we’d end up making it physical before the end of the week. I said we wouldn’t because we both danced around our feelings for so long,” he answers, stretching a little before sinking back down on the mattress.

            “Oh my god. You’re such a dork,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of Atlas’ head.

            “Yeah, but I’m your dork,” he says, tilting his head to look up at him, a sleepy smile on his face.

            “Yeah, I guess you are,” Liam says, cupping his face and leaning down to press their lips together.

* * *

            SAM reminds them, helpfully, that their duties are waiting. They both grumble and complain, but Liam hauls himself to his feet and into Atlas’ shower, leaving Atlas to pick their clothes up off of the floor and dump them in the laundry chute.

            CH: I KNEW IT!

            CH: PAY THE FUCK UP, PATHFINDER.

            CH: Wait, please tell me you’re actually done. If I’m interrupting I will actually cry.

            AR: what

            CH: I saw Liam dragging you into your bedroom.

            CH: I also heard you.

            CH: Next time be quieter.

            CH: Or I’m using those thirty credits to buy a gag.

            AR: cora pls oh my god

            AR: and there’s no way we were that loud

            CH: Yes you were. Ask Vetra. Or Jaal.

            CH: Speaking of, you owe me an extra twenty credits.

            CH: Jaal asked me if all human mating rituals were so noisy.

            AR: i’m never leaving my bedroom.

            AR: ever again.

            CH: Don’t worry, Atlas. I made sure they won’t ask you about it. Or Liam, for that matter.

            CH: Both of you would retreat into some dark hole and never come back out, otherwise.

            AR: well ur not wrong

            AR: thanks for having my back tho

            AR: i’ll transfer those creds now

            AR: [Atlas has transferred eighty credits.]

            CH: Eighty?

            CH: I wasn’t even serious about the extra twenty.

            AR: for doing so much to help us seal the deal.

            CH: I’m honored.

            CH: Or I was until I realized you were paying me because I helped you get laid.

            AR: it’s the thought that counts

            CH: Well, it counts for something.

            CH: Anyway, congratulations, I guess, to both of you.

            AR: thanks cora

            AR: i just heard the shower stop

            AR: talk to u later

* * *

            There are nights when neither of them can sleep. Liam had sent him a message, one of them asking, _are you awake?_ and when Atlas had said _yes, yes I am,_ Liam had shown up outside his door three minutes later in his pajamas, looking almost lost standing in the doorway.

            “Well, come on in,” Atlas had said from where he sat, curled up on the mattress, his stuffed dolphin in his lap and his arms around his knees.

            “Why’d you move the mattress off the bed?” Liam asks, but he walks over as the door shuts behind him and curls up next to him.

            “I wanted to be closer to the stars,” he answers, something almost vulnerable in his voice as he looks at Liam with soft and wide eyes.

            “They are beautiful,” he breathes, and then he lays down, one arm above his head and one across his stomach, looking out at the vast expanse of space.

            “Yeah. It reminds me of the Milky Way. I’d always look out at the stars back home. I know it’s different, that we’re in Andromeda now, but the stars look the same from here,” he whispers, gently setting his dolphin aside and laying down next to Liam, his head on his chest.

            “Do you miss the Milky Way?” Liam asks, turning just a little to look at him. The light coming through the window paints him in shadow

            “I do, sometimes, I think. It’s easy to get caught up in Andromeda, in the newness of it all, and I don’t think I’d go back if I was given the chance, but sometimes it hits me that it’s all gone. That I’ll never see the Citadel again, never go back to the beaches on Earth,” he admits, keeping his eyes on the stars floating by. It looks peaceful, out there, like the entire cluster isn’t going to hell in a handbasket.

            “Yeah. It’s weird, knowing it’s all gone. I have to remind myself, sometimes, that I can never go back. I don’t want to, not really, I love Andromeda and I love you, but…saying goodbye to the entire galaxy was a lot,” he replies, and Atlas reaches out, linking his fingers with Liam’s and squeezing gently.

            “I love all of this too. And, I think, as much as I love being a hero and as much as I love you, I’d like to go back, sometimes, to when I wasn’t. It’s just…weird, having all of this on my shoulders. I’m responsible for finding everyone a home,” he says, swallowing. He finds that he is not thinking about a boy six hundred years gone, and instead, he is thinking about how _home_ has become a crisis response specialist with honey-gold eyes and warmth in his smile.  

            “Sometimes it’s easier to be a nobody. But, for the record, I wouldn’t trade any of this, with you, for the whole galaxy on a silver platter,” he tells him.

            “I wouldn’t trade you either, Liam,” he says, looking up at him with a grin on his face. Liam rolls them over, hovering above Atlas, and cups one hand around his cheek before pressing a kiss to his lips.

            “I love you,” Atlas whispers.

            “I love you, too,” Liam replies, a soft smile on his face.

* * *

 

            They lasted two weeks before Liam gave up and moved into Atlas’ bedroom. Cora gained another twenty credits, this time from Vetra, who’d insisted that they’d dance around it for another week at least.

            “Guys, c’mon, do you have to keep making bets about my life?” Atlas asks, but there’s a grin on his face.

            “That depends, are you going to keep making it so easy?” Vetra returns, and he rolls his eyes, curling closer to Liam.

            “We might,” he answers, and he thinks of a boy from six hundred years ago.

            Back then, Atlas had thought that love was fevered kisses in hallways and a bruising grip on his waist. He thought he was in love six hundred years ago, but he knows better now. He looks at the man sitting next to him, one leg stretched out onto the coffee table as he absentmindedly scrolls through a datapad. It has taken him six hundred years and a brand-new galaxy to learn that love might be ice packs on desert planets and laying together on a mattress on the floor watching the stars.

            Atlas reaches over, linking his fingers through Liam’s. He thinks of all the things that have happened so far. Soon, they’ll take the fight to the Archon himself in the search for the Meridian. He doesn’t know what will happen next, but he knows with Liam at his side, he is ready to face it.

**Author's Note:**

> The original artist never sent in their art, but someone was kind enough to do a quick pinch-hit and make a moodboard for the fic. 
> 
> This was beta'd by the wonderful YourLocalPriestess here on ao3 (and you should definitely go check out her stuff!)


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